Seasons Greetings from The Grinch

I am sick of.....

the (tired) holiday cheer;
the syrupy holiday music blaring everywhere (even in men’s rooms! Don’t wanna hear Hark the Angels while I pee!);

the color RED everywhere;
all things grotesquely candied;
the gingerbread house fuss;
the frosty filigree;
the furbelowed show-windows;
the garish frill, flounce and festooning;
that exhausted little holiday doodad staring at me at the pharmacy checkout counter;
the swarms of “tree-people” clicking pics of THAT DARN TREE;
the Sequined & Spangled Starbucks and the comeback of the much-revered Gingerbread Latte (sic!);
the Madness of Macy's;
the smelly, sweaty, “ and very suspect” SANTAs trolling everywhere;
the LOUD bells and DESPERATE cries of Salvation Army “demanding” money;
the mad dash for thoughtless gifts (followed by the mad dash to return them);
the icy, over-in-a-second, snappy, unaffecting “Happy Holidays!” wishes,….....
(DEEP SIGH)
Is January 2nd here yet????

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Love,
Me

Laws We Must Obey.....

Dear Gay-Marriage Opponents,

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from you and understand why you would propose and support a constitutional amendment banning same sex marriage. As you state, "in the eyes of God marriage is based between a man a woman. I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination... end of debate. However, I do need some advice from you regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Canadians, but not Mexicans. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Mexicans?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2. clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?

7. Lev.21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle- room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev. 24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14) I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.

My First Half Ironman Triathlon

Sunday October 4, 2009
Montauk, New York

For the last 3 months I have fretted over this race which was my athletic goal for this year and I am so glad it is finally over and behind me. Yesterday, I participated in my first half ironman triathlon in Montauk, NY - the Mightyman Half Ironman. The race begins with a 1.2 mile swim in a lake, followed by a 56-mile bike over rolling hills, and then wrapped up with a half marathon (13.1 mile) run. I had never raced this distance before. I finished the race in 7 hours and 22 minutes, which came a surprise to me as I was not sure if I had the ability to finish within the (enforced) race time limit of 8 hours.

My friends Marc and Tiffany (who is 4 months into her pregnancy) drove me over to Montauk, NY on Saturday afternoon. It is a 3-hour car ride from Staten Island. We reached there by 3:45pm and after checking into our respective hotel accommodations, we had an early dinner at 5:30pm. I opted to go to bed early at 9pm as I had to rise at 3:30am and had to report to race site by 5:30am.

The weather in this part of the world had been somewhat cold, cloudy, dreary and wet for several days prior to the race. That was a cause of worry to me. Since I had never raced this distance before, I didn't want any additional weather-related challenges to face that day. Surprisingly, although it did rain on Saturday afternoon, on Sunday the clouds dissipated and the weather was mild and sunny. I was delighted.

I woke up at 3am but rolled out of the bed at 3:30am. After coffee and a bagel with peanut butter and jam, I biked over to the race site at 5:30am. The ground was wet and muddy. It was pitch dark. Thankfully I brought my flashlight with me. I set up my bike and my transition area and then climbed into my new wet suit. My wave of athletes were to jump into the lake at 6:48am. It was humid. My turn came to step into the lake, I felt the water and it was cold. It stung my body as I immersed myself into it. They blew the horn and off we went. I began swimming but something was not right. The cold water was distracting. It crept into my wet suit. I was unable to focus on my breathing and just then I lost control over my breathing completely. I struggled in the water. I fought the distraction and tried to re-adjust the focus. The systematic breathing pattern, essential for swimming especially in a race, went awry and I knew it right away something was going to go very wrong. I began to swallow water. Panic began to set in. I flipped over. It did not help. I flipped back and continued to swim very slowly and that too did not help. I felt "tightness" in my chest. Just then I saw a chap on the kayak close-by. I motioned to him and he came to my rescue. I held on to the kayak for about 4 long minutes. He and I chatted briefly. My breathing settled down and I felt better. Good enough to resume the swim. I swam the remaining portion of the entire distance (1.2 miles) but at a very slow, cautious pace because I didn't want to take any chances with a reoccurrence of the incident that had just occurred. I finished the swim in 59 minutes. I emerged from the water slightly fatigued and dizzy. I ran to my bike and struggled to get out of my wet suit. One of the officials helped me out of it. Jumped on my bike and off I went on a 56-mile ride.

The bike portion involved two loops of a 28-mile route. It meandered over hills, highways, residential areas, narrow streets and sections next to the ocean. It is a visually arresting route but very challenging. Biking is new to me. I learned biking here in the US about 4-5 years ago and I am still not completely comfortable on a bike. When I bike, I am always on the edge and slightly nervous. Recently, I had "aero bars" installed on my bike and had the gears moved to the front of the bars. I did this to help me rest my arms on the bike when I go for long bike rides. However, I didn't quite realize that "aero bars" require some adjusting and with the race merely 2 months away, I had the twin challenge of adjusting to the bars and training for riding 56 miles. I would wake up early weekend mornings and go biking in Staten Island to develop a level of comfort with the new contraption. As I completed the first loop yesterday morning, I got familiar with the terrain and knew what I had to encounter when I ride it again to complete the second 28-mile loop. Some of the hills were rather challenging but I was rewarded with vistas of the glistening ocean water under the bright sun, after overcoming those hills. We rode through some of the most expensive neighborhoods of Long Island, NY, lined with mansions and properties which were eye-poppingly stunning, often leaving me awestruck as I peddled past them like a maniac. I finished the bike portion in 3 hours and 55 minutes, much faster than the 4.5 hours I had anticipated.

Getting off the bike was a huge relief because then began my favorite portion of the race which I am most comfortable with - running. We were required to run 13.1 miles. After briskly changing into my running shoes and cap, I darted out of the transition area to commence the half marathon. The run portion was two loops of approximately 6.5 miles. I began running and was very happy to have the swim and bike sections of the race behind me. I had no idea how tough the run portion was going to be. They made us climb every hill in that region! I managed to sprint through the first loop, climbing the hills with ease, but struggled in the second loop. The sun was shining bright upon us and I was beginning to feel dehydrated. Energy levels dipped at times. I kept running, never stopped, however, did slow down considerably when it became excruciatingly laborious to place one foot in front of the other. Pain shot through my feet, thighs, glutes, calves, hamstrings. Now I knew why they call it the "Mightyman" - it requires all your might to finish it. As I crossed every mile of the second loop, my heart leapt with joy because I knew every stride was getting me closer to the finish line and the attainment of my goal for 2009. I kept going and then I saw the finish line a few hundred feet away from me. A groan escaped my lips. I threw my body forward and pushed hard and just then I saw a very pregnant Tiffany waving at me. I was so happy to see her. A familiar, smiling face, waving at me joyously - I was over the moon at the sight. I ran past the finish, my name and race number was announced over the loud speakers and almost instantly a feeling of calm began to set in. I ran the 13.1 miles in 2 hours and 18 minutes. I had done it! It was over. I was engulfed with euphoria. I had covered a distance (a total of 70.3 miles) in one day - a feet I could never have imagined possible just a few years ago. Warm hugs, smiles, words of praise and encouragement flowed profusely from Marc and Tiff....sounds which came together and blended into this one sublime feeling of joy.

This has been a tough year for many of us but we have and continue to, push hard through it, just as I did those last few miles of this race. As I struggled on the route, I thought of the challenges we face in life and as I overcame the challenges along the race route, it made me dwell upon life and its own struggles. I wanted to end this strife-riddled year with a race that would be challenging for me. Crossing the finish line brought me hope.

I have many more distances to cover and you all will be there with me, I hope.....

Cheers!
Deepak

bohemian in Bohemia

Friday May 8th - Sunday May 10th

I felt nostalgic and I can’t fathom why but that is the feeling which came upon me from the moment I first set foot in this city of “a 100 spires” - Praha, or more commonly known, Prague - the sprawling, visually fascinating capital of the Czech Republic, much of which was once known as Bohemia, the historic country of Central Europe.

I have never been here before and nor do I have something Czech that checkers my past, so why the nostalgia, I wondered.

I could pen tomes about Prague’s beauty and charm but you have heard that before, haven’t you? If you Google Prague, you will encounter several essays in flattering prose about the City’s magical beauty, and yes, all that is very true. Its beauty is arresting, indeed. As I walked the streets, my feet seem to sink into the muddy vestiges of the past. From a distance Prague appears to be a city where the past seems to reside harmoniously in the warm coffers of the present. As they stand next to each other, the young is respectful of the old. This “respect” appears to melt off the structural facade of the past and manifests itself into its people. As I rode the trains, buses and the trams, I noticed an eager and ready display of honor by the youth of their seniors. It appeared to flow effortlessly, without being demanded. I was impressed.

Last month I visited its neighbor Austria. Vienna offers a similar charm and all elements artistically, culturally and historically engaging, however, the two possess different personalities, quite like a pair of twins who grew up to be different but never stopped to look alike in the mirror. Prague appears to be more energetic when compared to Vienna’s more staid persona.

The flight to Prague

My Czech Airlines flight no. 51 from JFK landed in Prague at 6 am on Friday. Prior to landing, an announcement “Passengers suffering from swine flu and requiring assistance, please contact ground crew once we land in Prague” struck to me as odd. Announcements on board made during flight were heavily accented, so I wasn’t particularly stricken by its odd grammar or fluency. It was more about its subject. Well, it soon became clear. A young man aboard was allegedly suffering from swine flu. Perhaps the presence of an ailing passenger was kept under wraps to prevent panic during the 8-hour flight. His identity was revealed upon landing. Masked personnel entered the aircraft and went directly to him. He was removed with a mask over his mouth. No one seemed fazed except the woman who was sitting next to the lad. The crew members took down the contact information of the passengers sitting in close proximity to him and then the rest of us disembarked once he was out of sight.

Swine Flu - absence of paranoia

Throughout my stay in Prague I did not detect any heightened paranoia over the spread of the flu virus. People appeared calm and composed in trams, buses, trains and at all other public places. The news media itself seemed indifferent to what had consumed us all so fiercely in the US. Perhaps, fear is the virus we need to be most fearful of.

Commute to Hotel

My commute from the airport to the hotel lasted for an hour and included all three modes of public transportation the city has to offer. I took the bus number 119 from the airport to city center. It cost me 30 Czech Crowns (US$1 is approximately Kr 20). The bus deposited me at the Metro stop - Dejvika - where, a very helpful metro station officer, patiently explained to me how to get to my hotel. I was directed to take the “A” train to Metro station “Mustek” and then change to the tram number 9 at “Vaklavske Namesti” and step off at “Husinecka”. I followed the instructions and managed to get to the hotel by 8am. Since check-in time was 2pm, and there were no available rooms so early in the day, I was asked to return around noon to check availability. I deposited my baggage, freshened up, ate breakfast at the hotel restaurant (free of charge) and decided to visit the marathon expo to pick up my race packet. Oh, I forgot to mention, I was in Prague to run the Prague marathon on Sunday morning.

The Hotel

I stayed at the Three Crowns Hotel which is located in Zizkov (Praha 3), an eclectic, artsy, working class neighborhood - a little rough around the edges. A nice hotel it was but lacked in service, especially, housekeeping! I stayed there three nights and two days and my room wasn’t cleaned even once. I reported the lack of housekeeping on Saturday morning to the front desk, an apology was furnished to me but with a grim face and shrugged shoulders. Two fresh towels were handed to me as a consolation. On Sunday evening, my complaint about lack of housekeeping for two consecutive days received a smile and shrugged shoulders. Two fresh towels were handed to me with regret. I was informed that the entire hotel was serviced by one housekeeping maid and there is only so much she can do in one day. I was flummoxed by the response. Was I required to sympathize with the maid’s misfortune? I conveyed my annoyance sternly which was lost in translation and seemingly fell on deaf ears - very apparent, because the smile gave way to a giggle. I was too disinclined to exert myself any further and abandoned further pursuit of the matter.

Praha

“A City of a Hundred Spires”
“The Golden City”
“The City of Bridges”
“The Mother of all Cities”
............. is the flattering phraseology attributed to Prague by some.
Absolutely bewitching!, such is the dark, haunting beauty of Prague. Gold-tipped domes, sprawling majestic cathedrals, imposing towers and spires grace the city’s skyline. The stunning Romanesque architecture and gothic structures lend the City’s facade a romantic but foreboding allure. Cobble-stoned streets and alleyways run helter-skelter about the city alongside their more contemporary wider versions which make up the major streets and highways. The narrow passages and medieval lanes playfully disappear into each other, especially in the Old Town which houses a dense cluster of architectural gems, deservingly dubbed as the “Prague Pompeii”. Everywhere one turns, imposing vestiges of the gilded age of the 19th century, when Prague sparkled in wealth and culture, meet the eye. You can’t help but slow down in this city. It compels you to stop, stare and gawk.

The city has an unhurried pace. Even during rush hour, no one brushes past you with a doomsday cometh fiery trail. Large sunlit courtyards and squares dot the city where cozy sidewalk cafes lend opportunity for a late afternoon tea, coffee or a frothy pint of beer and lazy chatter.

The Vltava River runs through Prague and is the longest river in the Czech Republic. A number of bridges hover over the river adding further to the City’s mesmerizingly romantic charm, the oldest among them is the Charles Bridge which is akin to an outdoor museum lined up with marvelous statues on either side of the bridge.

Today Prague is rapidly gaining popularity as a tourist destination in Europe. Alongside the splendid architectural marvels from the medieval era, Prague offers the very best of all things contemporary. It is a virtual playground for the shopaholics with large glittering malls housing the best, the chic and the popular. Prague is also known for its pulsating nightlife boasting of some of the hottest clubs in Europe. It is a city that must be experienced.

The Currency

The Czech Crown continues to be the primary currency most businesses prefer to conduct business with, however, the country is expected to fully embrace the Euro sometime in 2010. Most establishments I visited accepted my American Express card which was surprising to me because, from my personal travel experience, Amex does not appear to be the preferred card of choice in Europe. As mentioned before, one US Dollar approximately fetches twenty Czech Crowns.

The Czechs

Attitude, yes, they have it. Overall friendly, polite, helpful and kind but there exists an icy layer underneath the warm, welcoming veneer. Most were eager to help me with directions, even engage in casual confab and impart advice when solicited. I did not face any language handicap anywhere in Prague. Almost everyone spoke English, however, Czech and Slovak are the official languages of Prague.

The Marathon

The Prague marathon is one of the more popular marathons in Europe and it had caught my attention last year when one of my friends participated in it and spoke well of it. After a heated contest which occurred mostly in my head, I opted for this over another race, as my first marathon of 2009, however, that wasn’t to be after my last minute change-of-heart and I ended up running the Vienna Marathon instead of the previously intended Vienna “Half Marathon”. That was three weeks prior to the Prague race. Still recovering from the Vienna race, I found myself at the start line on Sunday morning, somewhat weary and wary.

My iPhone alarm chimed at 5am and I was out of the bed at 5:30am, when the third and final reminder boomed in my ears and I could no longer convince myself to remain in bed. The hotel decided to open its breakfast room an hour earlier at 6am to offer hot coffee to its guest athletes. I was down there sipping away at my expressos at 6am sharp and departed from the hotel at 7:30am to be at the starting lineup by 8:30am. Bleary eyed runners wearing their running gears and “morning faces” spilled out from all corners of the city and pilled up on trains, trams and buses to descend upon the Old Town Square where the race began and eventually ended.

Race mornings are quaintly unifying wherein strangers suddenly bond and connect through the sport. Personal information is exchanged without restraint and for a few fleeting moments we exist in a bubble of fuzzy communal camaraderie which, in many ways, is comforting and often gratifying because, it is good to know that there are many other “crazy people” who relish running 26.2 miles on a crisp Sunday morning and enjoy the pain that the human body endures in the process. Some of us also travel across continents and oceans to subject our bodies to the grueling task of covering that distance on foot.

So, there I was, standing alone but not quite, among a few thousand others, ready to run another 26.2 miles in a new city far away from home. I looked around and faces represented different parts of the globe, all brought together to this one place with one objective. Stories exchanged, words of encouragement and cheer lavished in ample measure dutifully by their supporters and personal cheering squads, last minute gear checks performed, some pre-race stretching maneuvers employed, iPod playlists reworked, pre-race photographs snapped with bright (sometimes nervous) smiles and warm hugs...... I witnessed it all from my quiet vantage point squatting on the ground without any accoutrements to amuse and engage me, but the sights and sounds of the environs I suddenly found myself to be a part of, proved as sufficient divertissement.

The race began. We all surged ahead. It was a gorgeous, crisp, bright sunny day in Prague. Perfect for a long run but some found it rather too warm for running a marathon. I was one of the last ones to cross the start line and trailed behind for a considerable length of time until a sudden electric charge sparked in me and I found myself sprinting ahead, much to my own surprise.

The race route is visually engaging. We ran through the Old Town and its small lanes and alleyways, then veered off onto the main city streets, ran along the Vltava River and over many of its bridges which afforded us scenic views of the City and the route meandered through many of Prague’s landmarks. The race route was comfortable and flat, however, sections of it required running on cobble-stoned streets which I found somewhat unnerving. I feared tripping and falling but all went well.

It is a very well organized race and I recommend it to anyone who might be considering an international (overseas) race for next year. Water stations and toilet facilities were available every three or four kilometers, however, one foible (at least in my personal opinion) plagued the race organization - bananas! Why would they offer bananas at water stations??? The fruit ends up gracing the very ground we sprint over. Now, what do they say about running over banana peels, eh??? Hmmm...

All was going well, at least so I believed. When I crossed the 34 Kilometer marker, I looked at my watch and discovered that it had only been 3 hours and 46 minutes. Just 8 more kilometers to go. Yay! I was doing rather well, I discovered, much to my amazement. Some quick math led me to believe that I could finish the race under 4 hours 30 minutes, which would be better than my 2008 NYC Marathon (my first marathon) time of 4 hours 36 minutes. I ran for another 15 minutes and stopped at the next the water station for some refreshment. So far, I had not stopped anywhere. Running past water stations I would slowed down, pick up a cup of water and kept running but this time I decided to stop. By now, my hips, lower back, gluteus maximus, knees and ankles protested acutely. I saw fresh cut oranges on the table and grabbed a couple. Some water, some sport drink and after only a few pieces of oranges, I decided to get back to running but......I found to my horror, I couldn’t run anymore. I must be imagining, I wondered. I attempted to push my body forward, it just wouldn’t launch into a jog. In the interim, the pain grew exponentially. Reclaiming my calm, I decided to walk a bit and I did but repeated attempts to relaunch into a jog or run failed. I still had 4 more kilometers ahead of me. With no other options, I resigned to walking as much as I could, despite the rising discomfort. Too ashamed of walking past the finish line, I somehow brought myself to run the last kilometer. I did. It was over, finally. 5 hours and 4 minutes - far from what I had envisioned, but hey, I did it and thats what matters to me.

“I (don’t) see fat people”

My eyes did not register obesity anywhere. The Czechs, notwithstanding their high-caloried carnivorous diet, appeared fairly fit people. I was intrigued. Despite a seemingly more relaxed lifestyle compared to NY, the Prague denizens appeared lithe, fit, agile and active. My curiosity drove me to confront a Prague native about it and the response was - “We are active in Prague. We like to eat healthy and play hard.”. “Eat healthy”???? Hmm.....

Deodorant

I suspect that some Central Europeans haven’t quite discovered the fragrant benefits of deodorants, or maybe, they are just opposed to the idea. I encountered this in Vienna too, but some Czechs seemed particularly agreeable to dispense with deodorants and wear their individual redolence much to the disillusionment of my schnozzle. Often in public places the “spicy whiff” would catch me unawares and I would be rendered temporarily numbed. Can you imagine the “sulphuric cloud” that hung over the Old Town Square on race morning with multitudes milling in one location? I feared, if someone lit a match, there would be an explosion!

Thai massage

Quite like the pre-recessionary presence of Starbucks at every other block in Manhattan, I noticed Thai massage parlors everywhere in Prague. I enquired and was advised that spas and massage facilities were quite popular in Prague and Thai massage was particularly so. No particular reason was presented to me when enquired. It has been around for a long time and the Czechs tend to patronize wellness and spa establishments. In fact, Czech Republic has numerous “Spa Cities” which are located in picturesque locales in close proximity to hot water springs, brimming with healthful minerals and salts.

Public Transportation

The city has a very modern, efficient and clean public transportation system which is serviced by trains (Metro), trams and buses. Since I stayed for three days, I bought a 3-day pass for Kr 330, which gave me unlimited access to all three modes of transportation. Quite like in Vienna, one is not required to swipe or present the ticket to anyone, however, spot checks are conducted by the cops and if caught without a ticket or a ticket which is not validated, you are in trouble. The service is frequent and everything operates by the schedule, almost down to the minute. What a relief!

Sausage, Goulash, Pizza, Beer and.....Becherovka

I am vegan and once again, here I was, determinedly determined to survive in “sausage country”. Czech gastronomy is dense in calories and fatty. It could not be any more contrary to my dietary preferences. Prague is a haven for meat lovers, however, Italian food seemed to gain good favor with the natives. Pizzerias and Italian restaurants were spotted everywhere. I ate at a couple of Italian restaurants and the food was very agreeable. Surprisingly, everywhere I went, the servers were knowledgeable about vegan lifestyle and very willing to cater to my dietary preference. There are several vegan eateries in Prague and I visited a couple of them .......

“Country Life”, run by Seventh Day Adventists. It is primarily a health food store but one of its four branches in the City (the one located in the Old Town Square) also has a restaurant which has both indoor and outdoor seating. Both hot and cold food is served in cafeteria style and the furniture was reminiscent of a wooden lodge. I purchased some vegan cookies from the store and ate at the restaurant next door.

“VegFood” - an Asian restaurant with an international vegan soul. It is located in a predominantly residential neighborhood. I ordered vegan cutlets and a Beijing faux meat specialty which came with rice (the name escapes me). Fresh, wholesome, and agreeable to the palate and to the wallet!

“Dahab”, a middle-eastern eatery, which gained favor with some online veggie reviewers and therefore, caught my attention. It is located on Dlouha street in the Old Town. Here, I wolfed down a falafel sandwich which was quite satisfying.

Beer, considered as “liquid gold”, is regarded as the national drink of Czech Republic. The Czechs have brewed beer since early 10th century. The Czech agricultural conditions are considered ideal for growing hops, which contributes to the country’s large scale beer production and consumption. It tastes great and is very cheap. The world’s first clear golden lager - Pilsner - is their gift to the world. The nation has the highest per capita consumption of the beverage anywhere in the world. I believe some Czechs even consume beer at breakfast! I searched for “Staropramen”, a beer brand made in Prague, but it seemed to be in short supply and so, at the suggestion of the server, I tried “Krusovice” (the darker ale) and loved it. It had a smooth, full-bodied, roasted character to it and settled rather delicately on the palate. I found it very refreshing. By the way, I had no idea that Budweiser (in German, “Budvar” in Czech) is a Czech beer. Needless to mention here, I drank more beer in Prague than I ever do in NYC.

Prior to arriving in Prague, my research afforded me some familiarity of a curious Czech liquor - “Becherovka” - this is a traditional Czech liquor which I learned is very popular and must be had when in Prague. I was glad to oblige. It had an unmistakable, unique taste - floral and herbal - with strong notes of aniseed. The bartender emphasized by running her hands over her belly that the liqueur is a unique “secret” herbal blend possessing medicinal qualities and deemed very beneficial for digestion and digestive issues. I am not sure its “unusual” floral taste blossomed well on my taste buds but it is definitely worth umm....a shot.

After three glorious days of sunny weather, the heavens opened up on Monday and it poured heavily lending a luxurious and sensual wetness to the City’s lush visage. Quite like the way I reached the hotel upon my arrival, I retraced my footsteps back to the airport on that damp Monday morning - with each retraced step bidding farewell to a very satisfying visit.

I boarded my Czech Airlines flight back to NYC and once again, the airline messed up my special meal request for a vegan meal. It also happened to me when I was returning from Vienna last month after running the full marathon the previous day. Nine-hour flight and no food. I am getting accustomed to the idea of running marathons and fasting the next day. Oh well,....c’est la vie!

Here I am, returned from my travels with my senses awashed by the aqueous footprints of Bohemia.

Veritably Vienna

Friday April 17th - Sunday April 19th

I looked at her quizzically, doubting my ears and politely asked her to repeat. There it was again. She repeated herself. Yes, in Vienna, while riding the trains, busses and trams, you are not required to swipe your ticket or tap it anywhere or even present it to anyone. The commuter is "trusted" to purchase the ticket before taking a ride. Yes, of course, spot checks are sometimes conducted (but a rarity) by the Metro Cops and if a purchased ride is not found on your person, a fine of 60 Euros is slapped along with the cost of the ride the person was taking when caught in the act.

Unwilling to believe my ears, I politely rephrased my question - "what I meant to ask was, where do I swipe this (holding the ticket in my hand) to enter the platform?". She smiled and said "keep the ticket with you and just walk onto the train.". So, as I understood, this is how one uses public transportation in Vienna - enter metro station, walk onto the platform, step into the train. I was stunned. Such degree of trust??? Can you imagine this happening in NYC??? The NYC MTA is busy hiking fares while in Vienna they "trust" commuters to purchase rides. I pocketed my 3-day pass costing 13 Euros and walked out of the ticketing office in disbelief.

I had just landed in Vienna from New York on Friday morning and this occurred while I was en route to my rental apartment in Vienna. My 7-hour 40-minute Austrian Airlines flight from NYC was uneventful, however, I have to mention here that the aircraft felt cramped, especially, the unusually small seats which contributed to the feeling.

I managed to secure an aisle seat in the exit row which afforded me ample leg space but the true advantage and pleasure of occupying that seat was in enjoying the company of this very kind Austrian gentleman - Mag. Bernd S. Lubenik - a military advisor with the Ministry of Defense of Austria and posted at the UN. I have to mention that had it not been for his wide-ranging advice about all things Austrian and Viennese, I would have been lost in Vienna upon disembarking the aircraft. His knowledge was vast and advice startlingly detailed. His advice informed me how to navigate within Vienna, what metro trains and buses to take, where to go, what to explore in Vienna over a brief stay, he even mapped my race-day commute for me - how I would get to the start line and how I should get back to my apartment after the race. His instructions were accurate, very thoughtful, precise and enormously helpful for a first-time traveler to Vienna. Once we disembarked the aircraft, he and his wife waited for me to retrieve my checked luggage and then personally directed me to the Airport bus I should take to city center. (The bus ride was swift, smooth and economical, costing 6 Euros only. The other alternative is to take the CAT train, which is faster but costs more than twice at 15 Euros. Frugality motivated me to opt for the bus.). The gentleman was incredibly kind to me - a total stranger to him. I am very indebted to him.

The bus ride to city center lasted for 30 minutes and I got off at the last stop – Westbanhof - as advised. It appears to be one of the major transit hubs of Vienna (I thought it to be similar to Penn Station, NY). At Westbanhof, I bought my 3-day Metro pass and took the Metro to the stop closest to my rental apartment.

My accommodation in Vienna

The rental apartment - oh dear, frugality comes with a price to pay! I have often opted for rental apartments when I travel, where ever available because they tend to be cheaper and well-located in the city. My choice for accommodation in Vienna turned out to be very modest and tiny. The apartment building was located in a Turkish neighborhood. The building was old and dilapidated and a walkup (no elevators). The rental came without any toiletries and hot water was scant in the mornings. My first shower upon my arrival was with icy cold water! I was certain I was doomed to catch a chill but I didn't, fortunately. Only one set of two towels for the entire stay and no place to hang them! The bathroom could barely fit me and it had the smallest sink I have ever seen in my life. I ended up using the kitchen sink for my ablutions. The floor tiles in the hallways trembled, creaked and cringed as I walked over them and at night the corridors and stairways would be pitch dark. I had to feel the walls to make my way to my apartment. The television didn't work and the bed was actually a sofa bed which pulled out.

The Marathon

I arrived in Vienna to participate in a running event - the Vienna City Half Marathon as a training run for a full marathon I intend to run next month. Upon arrival I decided to upgrade to the full marathon distance but not with an intent to run the entire 26 miles. I had thought I would run about 15 miles and then drop off the race route. The day before the race I was all over Vienna and returned to my apartment around 11pm. I was unable to sleep a wink all night and woke up at 4am on race morning. I felt tired even before the race.

The Vienna City Marathon is the premier sporting event of Austria. Approximately 30,000 runners participate from all over the world. It is a well-organized event and begins at the base of a bridge, quite like the NYC marathon, however, the two races can not be compared. The NYC race is an event which I think remains unmatched. The Vienna crowds were supportive and often energetic in their cheering. Bands played at certain intervals along the route, however, as was the case at race start, often along the race route classical and semi-classical music was played, which I thought to be an unusual choice for a sporting event. Water stations were located at every 5 kilometers and porter potties could be found regular intervals along the route. The route meanders through the city and its various parks, and often many runners (including myself) would dart off into the trees to “irrigate them”.

Race day was a warm, bright and sunny day. I was advised that Vienna can be a windy city and anticipating pockets of strong winds, I decided to wear layers. Well, the weather was beautiful and it was not windy at all. A few minutes after the start, I felt very warm and had to peel off the extra layers and wrapped them around my waist. I was sweating quite a bit and I had barely covered 4 miles. After I crossed the 13-mile mark, I decided to give up after another couple of miles. My legs were really tired and I felt swept by waves of dizziness. Well, I didn’t quite stop running. I kept adding miles to my total and after I crossed the 20th-mile mark, I knew that I had to finish the race to pocket the finisher’s medal. The medal seduced me to the finish line. My body was very tired due to lack of rest and sleep. My feet, ankles, legs and hips ached. I had to stop and walk a few times and took several bathroom breaks where ever possible (some Viennese trees have tales to tell……). At last, I crossed the finish line and heaved a huge sigh of relief. I ran the 26.2 miles in 5 hours and 9 minutes, almost 30 minutes slower than my first marathon last year in NYC.

Vienna ("Wien")

The city, in the evening, disappears under a shroud of tranquility. People spill about lazily but remain civil and orderly. I found them very proper and polite. Strangers on the street would dart a soft smile at you if their eyes locked with yours fleetingly, unlike in NYC where a stare could earn you a stinging expletive.

As I walked about the city, light strains of music would lend the air a lilting fragrance. The music would be both contemporary and classical, but more often, classical which lent the atmosphere a veneer of sophistication. Music defines Vienna's personality. It runs through it like blood. Concerts abound all over the city which houses some of the best music houses in the world. I was tempted to be an audience to a concert but the cost exceeded my stringent budget for the trip. Maybe next time.....

On Friday evening, I was taking a stroll on the streets of the first district, and as I crossed one square into the other, skirting past dry fountains and old gothic statues, my eyes admiring the nocturnal charm and beauty of Vienna and feet skipping over the cobblestoned pavements, concealed lighting illuminating the gorgeous facades of the architectural wonders of bygone eras under the starry skies, suddenly, over the soft pedestrian chatter, I heard strains of a violin being played in the distance. The music was alluring and arresting. I grew curious and followed the sound. The dulcet notes grew closer with every step I took and just then, amidst the lazy, evening pedestrian traffic, I saw this tall, handsome, slim young man in a dark suit seated and playing the violin so marvelously that despite my lack of knowledge of classical music, I was stricken by it, almost entranced by it. I stood in a corner and heard him play and many others milled around me, charmed by his talent and the wonders of his rendition, the chill in the air unable to tear our attention away. After he stopped, his audience erupted in applause and once the crowd dissipated, I went up to him and learned that he was playing a composition of a very old Italian composer by the name of Francesco Maria Veracini. This young chap, a Czech by heritage but now a resident of Vienna, came into possession of the music sheets of this Italian composition. He couldn't remember what the composition was called but confirmed that it was by Veracini. We chatted briefly and I learned that he plays in that spot almost every day and remained thankful for the crowds who patronize him. He finds impromptu outdoor performances very satisfying as an artist, giving him the liberty to take liberties with his talent. My chance encounter with him and his talent certainly made my evening.

Vienna is architecturally stunning. History stares down at you at every corner with a well-deserved arrogance. Although major sections of Vienna were destroyed in the WWII, it still manages to leave the visitor stunned by its portentous historical beauty and charm. However, I must admit that there is a quaint sadness about Vienna, a melancholia which clouds its countenance like a slight, lingering shadow. It was intriguing to me.

Vienna is home to almost all ethnicities of the world. The crowds on the streets appear to be a potpourri of faces representing various parts of the globe. Austria has witnessed an influx of Eastern Europeans whose emigration is not embraced favorably by the original residents, it seems. They are often blamed for petty crimes and disorderly conduct.

I found the Viennese (or the “Wieners”) to be very cordial and friendly people, who go out of their way to help the tourists in their city. German is the primary language spoken here but I didn't face language handicap in the first district of the city (could also be referred to as the "downtown"), which is where I spent most of my time.

The first district is encircled by "Ring Road" and houses the prime real estate of Vienna. Almost all of Vienna's must-see sights are located right here in the first district. One requires a couple of weeks (or maybe more) to fully explore Vienna but since I was strapped for time, I hopped on a "Ring Tour" tram which took me around the Ring Road in 30 minutes and covered the major attractions. Cost – 6 Euros.


Vegan dining in Vienna;
My new friend, Lilia, and her vegan journey...

As a vegan, every travel of mine begins with a research about vegetarian/vegan-friendly places to dine. I research online, then map the venues (thank you, Google Maps!) and, upon arrival, visit the locations to satisfy my gastronomic desires. Prior to my departure, I learned about a vegan restaurant named “Bio Bar von Antun” in Vienna (www.biobar.at ). I decided to make it my first stop for dinner upon arrival in Vienna. After my day-long perambulatory excursions across the City, I decided it was time for some calorific intake and Bio Bar loomed upon my mind. I pulled out the map and after many wrong turns, finally landed at its doorstep where I was warmly greeted by a cheerful face who turned out to be my hostess – Lilia.

The restaurant has been operating at its present location for 8 years. At its previous location in Vienna, it operated for 10 years. Lilia hails from Belgrade, and supports a warm sweet smile which reminds me of Robin Williams' in Mrs. Doubtfire. In fact, her delicate and soft utterance of "My dear" bears a striking resemblance to Williams' in the movie. Bio Bar von Antun is owned by Lilia's cousin whose wife - Madelaine Petrovic - is an Austrian politician.

Lilia considers herself to be a pioneer of veganism in Vienna, maybe even in Austria, she admitted with a hint of humility. Lilia's vegan journey began more than 17 years ago. She doesn't remember why she invested her energies, time and money in a vegan/macrobiotic endeavor. She does remember speaking to her father and friends about it who chided her for being "abnormal". Vegan, in Austria - the sausage country?? She must be crazy! Who would patronize her? She did not give up. She remained steadfast in her resolve to introduce vegan and macrobiotic diet to the Austrians. I enquired why and she responded that she wanted to dabble into something unusual and different, something which was healthy and beneficial to the people. She wanted to make a difference somehow and this, she admitted, came closest to her heart as a way to achieve what she had in mind. She acquired a small place and opened a restaurant in the 17th district of Vienna which was close to theaters and a university. Alone she toiled tirelessly to operate the restaurant. She told me that she worked from early morning to late at night cooking and serving her clientele, which included students and faculty members from the university and the evenings witnessed the theater-going crowds. After the evening performances were over, the artists and theater workers would invade her restaurant, keeping her on her feet late into the night. She worked tirelessly!

A few years after she opened her first restaurant, she met with a devastating accident. She lay in the hospital bed, unable to speak (her teeth were shattered) and the doctors told her that her legs may have to get amputated. It was December 8th, she says. Snow fell from the dark foreboding firmament outside her hospital room window. She lay there with her world on the brink of being shattered completely. She has two kids who were young then. She was responsible for raising them. How would she take care of her kids as a disabled person? A mother's worry plagued her. As she lay there that snowy evening, she shared with me, suddenly she heard voices in her head. The voices told her she must stop eating meat. Yes, she was operating a vegan/macrobiotic restaurant already, but she herself was not a vegan yet. The voices demanded that she must give up eating meat right away for the sake of a small boy in India who was blind. If she turned vegetarian and shunned all things that composed blood, that small boy will gain the gift of sight within 13 years, the voice spoke thus. On her hospital bed she had a surreal vision of a little boy crouched (his face hidden) in a land far, far away. In that paralyzed state she made a determined decision - she gave up meat consumption. She never met that boy or even knew who he was or what he looked like. She turned vegan trusting the voice in her head in an attempt to give the little unknown boy the gift of vision. It has been 15 years and she hopes that a young boy somewhere in India enjoys the gift of sight...... Lilia still wonders why the voices in her head spoke of an Indian boy. She could not fathom the connection. Lilia recovered from the accident completely. Her legs were saved because she decided to change hospitals and get a second opinion. She flits about the small restaurant so energetically, catering to all customers single-handedly, that it is hard to imagine how once this woman was at the verge of losing her legs.

Lilia has two daughters - Indira and Aida-Tara. Lilia has also followed and embraced the teachings of Sri Chinmoy of India. Lilia divides her time between Belgrade and Vienna. Her family is here but Belgrade is still her home, even after spending decades in Austria. Lilia's other passion is writing children’s books. She is a woman of many talents and remarkable energy and resolve.

The restaurant, as I observed over the evenings I dined there, keeps fairly busy. It is handsomely patronized by both the locals and vegan food hunters like myself. The kitchen is manned by Lilia's sister while Lilia seats the guests and plays the hostess. She also mans the bar (yes, it has a bar but I have stayed away from alcohol consumption during this trip).

Lilia and I developed an affinity for each other almost instantly. Her warm personality seemed to suggest a caring heart. During dinner on Friday we seemed to have laid a foundation for something which blossomed rapidly over my next two visits. I promised to return on Saturday for my pre-race meal and I stood by my promise. She was delighted to learn that I was running the race on Sunday and as I stood up to leave the restaurant on Saturday evening, she brought over some vegan goodies to go with my morning coffee. Placing the small packet in my hands she said, “You must have this. This will be good for you tomorrow morning.” I was so touched by her kindness and thought. Once again, I promised to return to the restaurant after the race on Sunday for my last dinner in Vienna and again, I kept my word. In fact, I looked forward to it. I took some pictures of the restaurant on Sunday and some of Lilia’s too. I showed her my finisher’s medal and excitedly she asked me if she could hold it. I asked her to wear it for me, which she obliged readily and posed for photographs. As I departed from her company that Sunday evening, we exchanged contact information and she said to me, “Please, we must stay in touch. You are family now.” Her words were affecting, as were the eyes which stared at me. I knew right there and then, I was walking away richer by another dear friendship.

Here is what Lilia served to me and I relished very much at Bio Bar von Antun.......

Friday April 17th/7:30pm

It began with a lovely cran-apple juice drink and fresh salad followed by a vegan "Zwiebel-Rostbraten" (2 wheat gluten cutlets with fried onions) served with fried Potatoes and Horseradish-Apple-Dip - an Austrian specialty turned vegan - absolutely mouth-wateringly delicious. The cutlets gently resisted my fork as it sank through them but surprised me with their flavorful personality, the potatoes were savory and the dip exploded over the tongue quite like fireworks in the sky but, delicately. Dessert arrived in the form of a chocolate vegan, gluten-free cake and a soy-cappuccino. The cake was moist and stood upon a slim foundation of minced nuts and fruit.

As I enjoyed my meal, folksy tunes of the Portugese "Fado" sung by a female singer, and Spanish gypsy music filled the restaurant infusing much passion and yearning.

Pre-Marathon meal
Saturday April 18th/5:30pm

Lilia prepared a delicious fruit cocktail for me to go with my dinner. It was so fresh and agreeable that it vanished even before it could fully settle in the glass. The appetizer constituted a savory and hearty potato, rosemary soup with a mild dash of spices. Vegan soya cream swirled over the creamy soup with traces of rosemary making itself known in the right measure at the right places. The main course was a very satisfying whole wheat spaghetti with vegan Bolognese. The dessert was an encore appearance of Friday night’s chocolate cake with soya cappuccino.

Post marathon meal
Sunday April 19th/6pm

Dinner began once again (upon my special request) with the fresh fruit cocktail.
Lilia asked me what I would like to eat that evening and I asked her to make that decision for me. I wanted her to surprise me. I was quite confident that I would not be disappointed.

She brought a plate of scrumptious fresh salad which I inhaled almost immediately, followed by a vegan Pepper steak with, what I was advised, a distinct Austrian personality, alongside potatoes with a slight dollop of flavorful pesto chutney hiding among the potatoes. The steak (the name, unsettling to my vegan sensibilities, was ignored) was delightfully tender and the occasional pepper stung my palate dutifully, yet mildly. The entire presentation gently floated in a savory sauce with, what appears to be, a guest appearance of basil. I am charmed, but of course. Dessert arrived in the form of a vegan "moon cake" topped with a layer of “agar-agar” (veg gelatin substitute) and fresh fruit. The sweetness was nuanced to perfect measure while the fruit lent that necessary freshness to the composition.

My palate was joyous with the mercies my visits to Bio Bar von Antun had bestowed upon it.

I woke up early Monday morning, unwillingly subjected myself to a cold shower and left the calm streets of Vienna for the clangorous New York City.

So, thus was my Vienna visit. A new city visited and explored albeit briefly, a marathon finisher’s medal pocketed, and a new addition to my treasure trove of friendships. All of it, in just 3 days.

Until next time….
Cheers!
Deepak

Shalom! from Tel Aviv..... (My first visit in 2007)

Sent: Nov 26, 2007 7:42 AM
Subject: Shalom! from Tel Aviv

This is Sunday morning - 7:15am. I am sitting in the balcony of my 16th floor hotel room overlooking midtown Tel Aviv on the right side and a vast expanse of the beach on the left. The Mediterranean Sea seems lazy from this vantage point. I can see little waves disappearing into the sandy beach which is almost vacant of any human traffic. A stray runner sometimes jogs across sparking a desire in me to dash down and join him/her but alas, I can't. I am waiting here in my room to be picked up by the tour bus as I am on my way to Masada and the Dead Sea today.

This is my 3rd day in Israel. I landed here on Friday at 9:30am. The Continental flight from the US was tiresome, as any 10.5 hour non-stop flight can be in coach class. Some of my co-passengers were orthodox jews whose practice and mannerisms aboard the flight provided me a sliver of window into their world. It was a big aircraft and at the back there was a large kitchen area where the crew busied themselves with their duties. Thrice during the flight, men in black attire and hats scurried about draped in a "tallit" ( a long beige shawl with black stripes shawl) and wearing "Tzitzits". They congregated in the kitchen/pantry area and performed prayers. It was my first time but I found the ceremony fascinating.

At Newark, there was a special gate assigned for the flight to Israel. There were two sets of security screenings - one at check-in and the other at the departure gate just prior to boarding. That gate was accessible not until 45 minutes prior to departure.

Upon arriving at the Tel Aviv Ben Gurion airport, I was grilled (more like sauteed) twice separately by two women officials. Took me a while to clear immigrations. The second woman was very tough and very attractive to look at. She shot questions at me with rapid fire briskness. Why am I visiting? Why am I carrying a laptop? Where do I work in NYC? Show me your business card? So, who is handling your job while you are here on vacation? I told her my colleague Adam Greene is handling my work. Who is Adam Greene??? He is a VP, I answered. I spoke with a dead pan expression but was hysterical within. I have no idea why Adam's name shot through my cranium but I spat it out and it was too late to inhale the word back into my mouth. Do you know anyone in Israel? I told her about Gadi. How do know Gadi? I told her that I met him online about a month ago. She looked at me directly into my eyes. I did not blink. She burst into a smile for the first time during the interrogation. I smiled too. We both silently acknowledged each other. She let me go.

The Tel Aviv Ben Gurion airport is rather impressive! It is a new terminal and very modern and sleek. After the sauteeing interogative exercise, I collected myself and dashed to grab my bag and exited the terminal to catch a cab to the hotel. Gadi had advised not to take a cab charging me more than 130 NIS (New Israeli Shekels) and if a cab driver bothered me, I was to text message Gadi immediately who would then call and settle the fare with the driver. So I insisted on settling the cab fare with the driver before getting into the cab. "110 Shekels", he spat out and I dived into the cab. The ride from the airport to the hotel afforded me an opportunity to check out TLV. The market places, the structures of private dwellings reminded me of Delhi. Yes, very similar to the facade of Delhi but of course much cleaner, less crowded and slightly fancier. Apparently, Israel has a thriving economy. The country is doing well. The standard of living is very high as compared to others in the region. The infrastructure is similar to any European country but at heart it is very middle-eastern.

After arriving at the hotel at 11am, as per my instructions, I sent a text message to Gadi who called me immediately. He insisted that I have a quick shower and meet him right away. I, on the other hand, was ready to crash and take a long nap but Gadi would hear none of it. I met Gadi at 1:30pm and we went out walking into the city. He took me around to help me get familiar with the neighborhood and give me a general idea of the city, places to see and dine at, and various other pointers about getting around in TLV. We walked through the famous Carmel market which is a long, slim, colorful street abuzz with frenetic shopping activity, a riot of sights, sounds and smell and extremely congested. You can't walk through it without brushing against another person. We also walked through a handicrafts market adjacent to Carmel where we browsed at various stalls displaying beautiful artwork and other very engaging handicrafts. Gadi bought me a few DVDs of Israeli movies and a bunch of audio CDs of Israeli music. It was very generous and sweet of him. He wouldn't let me pay for anything. He insisted on paying for everything. I almost had to fight him over this. We stopped at a delightful coffee shop - Cafe/Cafe - where I enjoyed a marvelous cuppa soy latte. Yumm! Gadi paid. Israel has a very active and thriving coffee culture. Reminds me of Barcelona. There are cozy, comfy coffee cafes everywhere and the coffee is excellent. They have Turkish coffee, Arabic coffee (it is filtered coffee spiced with cardamom - delish!!), expressos, Americana and other varieties. I believe Starbucks descended upon Israel but the Israelis booted it out as no one here cared for their coffee. It was declared as putrid for the Israeli palate. The local opinion about America is not as flattering as I had suspected it to be. People are critical of America and more than once in my confabulations America was labeled "dumb" and "puerile". Ouch! So much for the American-Israeli relations!

Okay, back to Friday - later in the evening Gadi took me to this wonderful middle-eastern restaurant (here they refer "middle-eastern" to be "oriental") - a very modest establishment, even more modest prices but the food was out of this world!!!! I paid for dinner after waging a war with Gadi which included stomping my foot, grinding my teeth, thumping the table, and various threats and ultimatums hurled.....he reciprocated in equal measure...but I won the contest this time around! Phew! That man exhausts me! When the check arrived, the dinner was only 90 Shekels (one Dollar is around 3.9 Shekels). I looked at Gadi who flashed a mischievous smile. He had planned it. He knew it would be a very small amount! Argh!!! Earlier while shopping and browsing I ran out of cash and he doled out wads of notes to pay for my purchases. I resisted and he admonished me. (Of course, I reimbursed him as soon as I came upon an ATM but he didn't want me to worry about not having any cash on me as I browsed and shopped). He sounded like a combo of Tiffany and Carissa together admonishing me. Can you imagine this - I just met this guy 3 hours ago and he was treating me as if he had adopted me!! Why do people in my life feel the urge to adopt me????? Argh!!! By the way, he is 6 feet and 2 inches tall and verrrrry slim. Did I tell you I met him online a month ago and he has been extremely good to me. He is scheduled for a colonoscopy on Monday afternoon. He is taking a day off from work on Tuesday to be with me - I am trying my best to dissuade him from doing so.

So that was Friday. Saturday (yesterday) morning I was to meet my friend Monica in Jerusalem. She was driving in from Jordan to spend the day with me in Jerusalem. I was out of the hotel at 8am and was given step by step instructions by Gadi how to reach Jerusalem via local transportation. He also wrote the Hebrew dialogues and their English translations and made me recite the dialogues in Hebrew until I attained phonetic accuracy. So, armed with the instructions I descended upon the street to hail a "Sharut". A Sharut is basically a van with seating capacity of 20 people. The charge is typically 5 Shekels per trip to anywhere in the city. I was to ride the Sharut to "Central Station" where I was to hop on to another Sharut to Jerusalem. I waited at the corner for 30 minutes before one arrived who was willing to take me. The other two did not have any empty seats left and so did not stop at the sight of my flailing arms. I managed to reach Jerusalem by 9:40am after changing a Sharut at Central Station. Met Monica and then our day began in the walled Old City of Jerusalem (or Yerushalayem). We walked for hours winding through the Arab Quarters, the Jewish Quarters, the Armenian Quarters and the Christian Quarters all within the Old City. We floated through the "Via Dolorosa", the precise path Jesus walked through with the cross (except I had my Rockports and he didn't!); we visited the "Dome of the Rock" where Abby (Abraham) is to have laid his son Issy (Isaac) on a rock in preparation of a sacrifice (we weren't allowed access to the Mosque upon the rock due to Sabbath prayers); we visited the "Church of the Holy Sepulchre" which houses the areas where Jesus was crucified, then brought down and then laid to rest in the sepulchre; we visited the Western Wall (the Wailing Wall) which is a special place for prayer on Sabbath (we visited it on Sabbath - no photography is allowed). I walked up to the wall, scrutinized the wall gorged with innumerable little pieces of paper from people listing their wishes thereupon, touched it, checked out some of the dudes plastered plastered on the wall with their arms and legs spread eagle (what??? They were cute and I could help checking them out even if it is one of the holiest sites in the world!), turned around and came away. Later Monica informed me that the etiquette demands that you don't turn your back to the wall as you walk away. Oh well, I am going to Hell anyway, whatever.....!!!! We wrapped up our visit to the Holy City with a stop over at the Garden of Gethsemane (we all know what happened there, right?? The place where Jesus was betrayed by that dude Judas). The garden still house gnarled olive trees which are 2000 years old. Argh!!! They looked scary!

Wrapping up our visit to Jerusalem, Monica and I returned to Tel Aviv where we met our friend Jeff and we had a delish meal at a Thai restaurant very close to my hotel. We chatted, exchanged old tales of yore and then parted for the night. I was exhausted! Dropped into bed in preparation of today's program.

Okay go to go now. Will write more about my travels a little later. I am not sending to Heather lest she keels over in dismay and absolute horror at yet another the long detailed email from me but you can provide her a synopsis if she cares for it.

Lechim (Cheers in Hebrew)
Lehitraot (See you soon in Hebrew)
Deepak

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

The London Triathlon - August 2008

This was the travelogue I emailed from London to my friends all over the world.  My total time for the race was 3:33:19.

Date: Tue, 12 Aug 2008 14:50:52
Subject: Hello from London..... 

The nearest window afforded me a gorgeous view of sunlight bathing the clouds, lending them an appearance of pristine white puffy "cotton balls" suspended in air as my Delta flight no. 1 began its descent over London Heathrow airport on Saturday morning. My face lit up with anticipation and hopes of a gorgeous sunny day in London.

Well, that was the view from above the clouds. As the aircraft pierced through the cotton balls, London's true weather was revealed. My previously sunny countenance alit with anticipation trickled away with the rain drops that slid down the same window I was peeking through just seconds ago. As the aircraft wheels kissed Heathrow's wet runway, I noticed the dark, foreboding firmament.

We disembarked from the aircraft and were bundled into a bus which ferried us to Terminal 4 where I stood in a long queue for my immigration clearance. As I inched my way to the front of the line I noticed that almost all of the immigration officers were......of South Asian descent! I also noticed that a muslim woman in her traditional attire was one of them. As far as my eyesight could travel, I noticed South Asians manning the desks at Immigrations. For a brief moment I wondered if I was at New Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport but my schnozzle did not register the familiar strong odor that welcomes the visitor to the Delhi airport. Nope, this was indeed Heathrow! Also, I noticed that South Asians were very visible in other establishments such as the Underground which at times made public announcements indiscernible....umm....sometimes, that is. My US passport helped me breeze past the immigrations scrutiny and then began my trek to the hotel.

My hotel was located away from the center of London but only 1.8 miles from Excel Center - the venue for the London triathlon I was scheduled to participate in. It is a new, modern hotel offering all things contemporary. Very stylish. The staff was very friendly, accommodating and customer service oriented. My room was very comfortable. The hotel is located adjacent to Canary Wharf which appears to be a swanky, relatively new, modern real estate development adorned with tall, gleaming skyscrapers and sprawling commercial complexes. 

I took the Paddington Express from Heathrow (GBP 15, one way) which deposited me at Paddington Station in approximately 15 minutes. There I boarded the Underground and after changing 3 trains I finally arrived at the hotel at noon. After checking in and a quick shower, I went over to Excel Center where I got my race packet, goodie bag (sans goodies!) and the timing chip. Then I went over to check on my bike rental. Greg, of "Tri and Run", was very helpful in sourcing the bike for me which I had orchestrated from New York via email with him. Greg was a funny chap with a very British self-deprecating sense of humor. After taking care of matters relating to the bike and attending a somewhat inadequate race briefing, I began my hunt for food. I needed to consume calories for my race the next morning. Everywhere I turned, was not vegan friendly. I was disappointed. Finally, I stumbled upon a veggie soy burger which was substantial but remember, now I have soy intolerance so it didn't quite sit that well in my tummy.

After fetching some groceries from Waitrose (imagine Whole Foods but several times larger, cleaner, sleeker!) I crawled into bed at 7pm only to be awake at midnight! I remained awake for about 2 hours and fell asleep and woke up at 3am. I was out of the hotel at 4:30am and at the venue by 4:50am. Greg had mentioned that he and his staff will be there at 4:30am and so I could come and spend some time getting familiar with the bike I had rented. Well, that didn't happen. They didn't open the massive shutters to the main hall where the "transition areas" and the expo were located. Yep, it is a gargantuan facility! Massive in size! It could accommodate two race transition areas for two separate teams and the entire Expo itself. Since most of you are not triathletes, I must explain what a "transition area" is. A triathlon is a three sport event - swimming, biking and running (in that order). When we finish the swim, we run to the transition area where our bikes await us. Here we change the gear from swim to bike, jump on the bike and head out. Essentially, we "transition" from one sporting discipline to another. Similarly, when we finish the bike, we return to the transition area, rack the bike, slip into the running gear and head out for the run. Again, "transitioning" from biking to running. I must laud the Brits for organizing such a large scale sporting event involving 11,000 participants, each participating in three different sporting disciplines. 

The shutters opened at 5:50am, 20 minutes late! I had to be in the water at 6:30am. There were 472 men in my wave alone!!! I got my bike from Greg, raced over to rack my bike and set up my transition area and then dashed to the swim start after climbing into my wet suit. Quite honestly, I was exhausted already.

The doors opened and we were directed to the swim assembly area. It was a cold, damp morning. A stiff breeze greeted us. Now, here comes my first challenge. I have done several triathlons but I still don't know how to tread the water! Here, at the London tri, we were required to jump in the water and head to a "starting point" a few meters away from the platform. This is called a "wet start", that is, we start the race while assembled in the water, as opposed to diving in the water from dry land ("dry start"). We were required to wait there, treading the water, until the gun goes off. My only alternative was to jump in the water, hold on to the platform edge until the gun goes off, and try to catch up with the rest. I did exactly that. Yes, that meant I had to swim slightly more than the rest but I had no choice. The water was very cold. The swim route was a rectangle. We were to swim to Tower Bridge and then turn back. As I turned back, I discovered that the tide was against us. Not sure why, but I felt I was swimming against the tide which made the swim back home tougher. Also, the stiff wind wasn't quite helpful either. Finishing the swim portion, I jumped onto the bike. Here comes my next challenge. Remember, I never got to try out the rental bike. The pedals and the gears were slightly different. I had to get accustomed to the new elements as I was riding in the race. Also, in the US, if one chose to slow down he or she is expected to stay to the right and other bikers are expected to pass on the left. It is the opposite in the UK which of course, I learned via the agitated yellings of fellow racers. I was getting educated as I rode the bike. Good stuff! As I rode and struggled with the new pedals and gear system, I took in the sights of London as they passed by me. The day had turned sunny by then but the winds had picked up. It had gotten very windy. My bike swayed at times. As I rode with my strength depleting along with my spirits, suddenly I heard someone scream "Deepak!!!!! Yeah!!! Deepak!! Go Deepak!!!". That was my friend Monica. She too was participating in the race but her race was to begin at noon and so she was being a spectator on the bike course looking for me. Her cheering suddenly infused life into me and bolstered my effort, pumping endorphins into the blood. I felt the spike in my effort and I peddled and peddled and peddled, harder and harder as I could. (Thanks Monica!) We went through a few tunnels, biked along the River Thames and went as far the Tower of London and beyond and then returned. The run portion of the race was the easiest for me. I finished it without much effort. 

I am glad this race is over and behind me. This ends my 2008 tri season. Now I work on my marathon training. I am looking forward to the NYC race with great anticipation.

I was in London 10 years ago and I was disenchanted by it then, however, I had wondered if this visit would change my opinion. It didn't. I find London to be a busy, modern, bustling city but it lacks energy and oomph. I know, many jaws just dropped reading this but hey, it is just my personal opinion - Londonphiles mustn't take it too personally. London doesn't quite embrace you, it keeps you at bay. There is always a "chill" in the air, and here I am refering to more than just the weather. Perhaps, London's gloomy weather contributes to it, in an obtuse way. Sunny weather lends a sunny countenance. Gloomy, wet weather brings forth a grimace. I noticed, on certain days, despite the wet forecast, many Londoners were without umbrellas. They darted about with a grimace as raindrops landed on them. However, my experience at most shops and restaurants was quite pleasant. They were very polite and forthcoming with assistance. Unlike in NYC where seeking assistance from a store personnel is almost akin to embarking on an expedition for the holy grail.

Quite like the US, UK's economy too, is ailing. Real estate prices have slumped almost by 15 percent, inflation is twice than what the government previously predicted, unemployment rate is climbing and recession is deemed inevitable. Such statistics portend a rather gloomy economic future. Britain's 17-year vibrant economic growth has effectively ended, they say. Some predict that Britain's depressed economic state will last longer than that of the US. Well, none of this is news to anyone of you unless of course, you crawled under a rock many years ago and don't remember your way out from under it.

My trip to London is coming to an end. I am now at Heathrow waiting for my 5:05pm flight back to NYC. It was nice to be in London for my first overseas triathlon. It was a satisfactory experience. Will I return? Perhaps another sporting event will lure me back someday. Travel costs, especially to places like Britain are becoming so increasingly prohibitive with the Dollar sliding faster than the raindrops on my hotel window combined with the escalating oil prices. I was fortunate to find a good deal ($1,200-plus) for a 3-night and 4-day stay at a very nice hotel, inclusive of airfare. 

They just announced the first boarding call for my Delta airlines flight. It is time to end this travelogue. Until next time....let's see where my restless feet take me next.

Cheers!
Deepak
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Salaam from Aqaba, Jordan....

Sent: Dec 9, 2008 8:17 AM

It is 4:30pm here. The sun is slowly sliding into oblivion but its intensity continues to be felt on my affected skin. 

I am sitting by the beach, in a ramshackled "canteen". My second cup of Turkish coffee sits on the table unattended before me, its contents emptied. The waves of the Red Sea crash gently against the rocks where I sit. I can see kids frollicking in the waters from a distance. The occassional stillness and quietude is suddenly shattered by speeding boats spilling out Arabic music. A pair of camels stroll on the beach. A dusty mist envelopes the distant mountains around us. Further away in the waters are ships and boats, seemingly motionless but deceptively purposeful. Seagulls are dancing over the calm sea waters. The sun continues to slide behind the mountains while I quell the desire to jump into the water and swim into the sunset. 

So many civilizations have been here before me. History has been written and re-written repeatedly, right here by the shores of the Red Sea. I can almost see Saudi Arabia from here. Israel is next door. I just arrived from there. This part of the world is rife with conflict, none of which is evident in the atmosphere I inhabit at this moment. Humanity mills around me, lazily. It is so peaceful here.

This is a world so apart from the one I will return to next week, affording an experience so unusual and once more, filed away in my album of cherished memories. A group of denim and Nike clad teenage boys sit in the distance, engaged in lazy confabulations, both over and away from their cell phones. At another table I see a woman with a headscarf and dark glasses staring into the sunset but enjoying a sheesha (the "hookah"). At every turn I witness an awkward yet peaceful marriage of tradition with the contemporary. The middle-east continues to fascinate and engage me. In a couple of days I will depart from here with a promise to return to the rocking cradle of humanity. 

The sea breeze has turned more determined to catch my attention. This time it brings a little chill with it as the sun settles behind the quiet but imposing mountains. I must return to the hotel. 

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Baptism of yore

Sent: Nov 24, 2008 8:41 AM

I am staring at the murky waters of the Jordan River, at the site where Jesus was supposedly baptised by John the Baptist. A group of people clad in white overalls are down by the river, as each one individually steps forward, covers the face with hands and is immersed in the water via a backbend, assisted by a priest. I am in Tiberias, Israel. Just a few yards away from the site where the baptisms are being performed, Coke, Pepsi, potato chips, Orbit chewing gum, etc are being sold. Conventional Christian belief dictates that Jesus will return. Well, if he plans to re-visit this site, he better have enough cash on him because a bag of chips at the baptism site today costs 10 NIS (New Israeli Shekels)!! I bought an Orbit chewing gum as a souvenir. And from the odors hovering over the murky green waters, Orbit was probably the most practical purchase.

Shalom!
D.

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By the seaside....

Sent: Nov 26, 2008 6:35 AM

The sun is baking me as I run on the beach in Tel Aviv. I am soaked in sweat. The light Mediterranean Sea breeze keeps me cool. I am running on the wet sandy beach with the waves making every attempt to touch my sneakers - an attempt I thwart each time. With the sea waves inches away from me, I am listening to Lata croon away "Saagar Kinare, dil yeh pukare....." ("By the seaside, my heart yearns.....") on my iPod. One of my favorite songs. Hot Israeli guys lay on the beach in their "birthday suits" as I run past them. They smile at me seductively. This must be heaven.....*giggles*

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Those 26.2 miles of my life......

The New York City Marathon
Sunday, November 09, 2008 7:57 PM

My feet, clad in my old favorite New Balance 856s, began to take brisk steps forward on the grassy grounds of Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island. As hundreds of us moved forward and made a swift turn through the enclosures, suddenly it loomed up right before us in all its metallic grace and majesty – the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  

It was 10:20am. The sun was bright and the November morning air chilly and brisk. The gun went off and hundreds of us in the second to last wave of runners took off to run over the bridge. The two towers of the bridge inched closer with each step and its suspension cables appeared enormous in width from up close, as they fell and blended with the edges of the bridge on either side.  

Some of you are wondering, what is this? I am writing about the dream I had for many years which realized before my eyes on the morning of Sunday November 2nd – my dream of running those formidable 26.2 miles that make up a marathon. My athletic goal for this year was to run a full marathon. For the past couple of years, I had gradually worked my way up to garner enough confidence to set this goal for myself. I chose the NYC Marathon as my first marathon. The reasons were obvious. It is my hometown marathon, the world's largest marathon event and the most exciting marathon staged in the world. I decided to gain entry into the race through Team For Kids (TFK), a charitable wing of the New York Road Runners Club. I had to raise funds for TFK which would earn me entry into the race. My dream was on its way to become a reality. But that was just the beginning. I had to train my body to endure those 26.2 miles which requires a disciplined training regimen. As soon as I wrapped up my NYC Triathlon in late July, I began working on my marathon training in mid-August. Weekends were set aside for training runs and cross-training. Weekday workout schedules would be set a week in advance after consulting the local weather forecast, which as some of you know, can be fairly unpredictable. I embarked on the grueling training program which was completely chartered by me. No one was consulted. I know my body and its limits more than anyone else. My primary goal was to train myself to finish the marathon without injuring myself. I was completely agreeable to run slow but steady. I trained on rainy days, hot and humid days and frigid mornings. I had to condition my body for all elements because of the unpredictability of race day weather. Preparation for a weekend training schedule would commence mid-week. I would focus on the hours of sleep I would need, the fuel my body required for each long training run and the amount and type of cross-training required to balance the long training runs. No alcohol on Friday and Saturday nights, early bedtimes were enforced and social events were kept to the minimum. I remember abruptly canceling all of my weekend social engagements for some days in September and all of October. Success doesn't come without sacrifice. It also doesn't come without the support of one's loved ones, who in my case, are my friends. Each one of them supported me along my journey to the Finish Line. I must take this opportunity right here to thank each one of you – you know who you are – for your love and support.

It wasn't easy. I had to finish all of my long training runs by the first Sunday of October – a month prior to race day. That was my goal. So, the Sundays in September were each allotted a 20-miler, a 22-miler, a 24-miler and finally a 26-miler. Conventional coaching wisdom does not recommend running the entire 26 miles during the training period but those who know me well enough know that I am not the one to follow popular convention. I wanted to endure the 26 miles prior to the race. I did. Oh dear! Those training runs were an intense test of grit and determination. Running alone without an iPod blasting music in my ears was not just a test in endurance but also a test of focus. Running a marathon, to me is all about covering the distance and overcoming the odds that come before you. "Keep moving, no matter what happens. Don't give up." Quite like a lesson of life. It teaches patience, sharpens one's focus and in the process, strengthens your mind and body. Well, I was unprepared for it. Since I was training alone without the watchful eye of a coach, I had to not merely cover those distances but also motivate myself into doing so and, often push myself harder to step out of my comfort zones. 

Training was wrapped up by the first Sunday of October and then began the taper. After running the longest training run, we taper the training by shortening the distances as we get closer to race day. Cross training via biking, swimming and running continued along side. 

As we got closer to race day, I fretted over all things that could go wrong. I stopped biking for the fear that I might crash and injure myself. Instead I took to swimming and yoga. Kept myself away from anyone who even remotely displayed symptoms of flu or any other viruses which could potentially pin me to the bed, ultimately rendering me weakened. All went well. Then it happened. A week prior to the race, on a Friday evening, I went grocery shopping. I emerged from the store laden with four brimming Whole Foods shopping bags, plus my yoga mat and a super stuffed office bag slung over my shoulders. Donning the beast of burden image, I lugged the burden from Manhattan to Staten Island, completely unconscious of the abuse I was inflicting upon my back. The back was severely compromised. Next morning I threw out my back. Typically it takes 4 to 5 days to recover. That was cutting too close to race day Sunday. I panicked. When I throw my back out, I allow it to heal on its own. I don't allow anyone to touch it. And it heals just fine. Popping pills is not in my nature. I will avoid it all costs, if it is avoidable. I must suffer through the pain which ultimately diminishes and dies away. This time, however, I panicked. Carissa, who sits next to me at work couldn't take anymore of my moaning and lamenting and scheduled an appointment with her physical therapist. I was on the physical therapist's table the next morning. Electric charges were discharged into my lower back and traction rollers pushed my body up and down. The therapist stretched me out in every way possible. Only two days left for race day. I felt slightly better.  

Stress began to gnaw at me. My confidence swung in all directions like the Dow Jones Index. Many of my friends had indicated they would come cheer for me along the route and, also see me at the Finish Line which required some organization. I took care of that and locked myself in my apartment on Saturday – the day before the race. Monica called from Jordan for a pep talk. Those of you who don't know her, she caused this madness in my life. We spoke on the phone for almost 2 hours and she asked several questions about my training and race running strategy. She seemed quite satisfied with my answers. The pep talk really helped! Her words echoed in my mind as I ran the next day. Saturday also witnessed some stressed induced digestive issues but that is also the day when one is required to stuff calories into the body – the eagerly awaited "carbo-load". It is akin to fattening the cow before slaughtering it. Tiffany was in charge of my pre- and post- race calories. She prepared pasta with a delicious tomato-mushroom sauce which I consumed and retired early to bed. Could not sleep all night. I was awake on Sunday morning at 5am. Marc and Tiffany were to pick me up at 8:45am and deposit me at Fort Wadsworth by 9am. Loretta called me dutifully at 7am. We chatted for half hour. Her race day call always brings me luck; yes, it is weird, but hey, if it works so be it. I was deposited at Fort Wadsworth by 9am. I found my corral and waited for the moment to arrive when we move on to the Bridge and start the race.

The gun went off and we lunged forward as a wave. Our strides took us over the Verrazano Bridge which afforded us the most spectacular vistas of the NY Harbor and New York City. Runners ran to the edges of the bridge and began taking photographs. The race start is incredibly thrilling quite like a panoramic aerial opening sequence of an action-packed Hollywood blockbuster. The first mile over the bridge is an incline, more like a ramp that we all run over. Although it is uphill, I didn't feel any stress on my body perhaps because it is a gradual climb and I had trained hard running up and down steep hills in Staten Island. One is so taken by the views from the bridge that before I knew it, I was at the other end of the bridge in Brooklyn. The first part is so thrilling that one is fueled by the adrenalin rush and could be tempted to run really fast. I was determined not to do so. Monica and I had discussed this on Saturday. I started slow and allowed others to run past me. As we entered Brooklyn, we were greeted by large, loud cheering crowds. The cacophony infuses such energy that instead of running, one rides over the surge of the loud cheers that greet you as a runner along the route. It is the most incredible and amazing feeling. We were greeted by thousands of people everywhere we went who cheered for us at the top of their voices, employing their full lung capacity. New Yorkers are truly amazing in this respect which makes the entire experience so energy-charged. The cheering never ends along the 26.2-mile route. It only intensifies. Music on loud speakers is played everywhere and the entire race route is sprinkled with live band performances. It is truly a 26.2 mile party! I can not take you mile-by-mile through the entire race here in my write-up (because it could take you 4 hours to read it!) but I will encapsulate the experience as profound, stunning, exhilarating and spectacular.

The NYC Marathon is a very well organized event. The large scale magnitude of the running event is shouldered by an army of volunteers who make sure that all goes well at the start, along the course and at the end of the race. Water and Gatorade stations, toilets and medical tents are located every mile or every two miles all along the route. I made two toilet stops along the way and one very brief stop to peel off a layer of clothing and toss it away on the Queensboro Bridge. Prior to the race I was certain that I would walk some distance but I didn't. Even at the worst moments when my legs, ankles, feet, knees and hips were collectively protesting, I was disinclined to walk. I feared that if I stopped or walked I wouldn't be able to pick up the pace and run again. So, I kept running, even if it was at the slowest pace. We started in Staten Island, ran over the Verrazano Bridge into Brooklyn, ran through Brooklyn into Queens over the Pulaski Bridge and then entered Manhattan via the Queensboro Bridge, exited Manhattan via the Willis Avenue Bridge into Bronx and then re-entered Manhattan via the Madison Avenue bridge and finished the race in Central Park. I ran through the NYC neighborhoods I hadn't visited in the 13 years of my residency and fell in love with NYC all over again. As I ran through the neighborhoods, I saw the world unfold before me. Smiling faces of different parts of the globe lined up to spectate. It was a remarkable display and reaffirmation of what this City is all about – a melting pot. I am so happy I live here and this is my home.  

I didn't look at my watch until I crossed mile 20. I didn't want to know how fast or slow I was going. When I crossed mile 20, I checked my watch and couldn't believe my eyes. I was almost certain that my watch was malfunctioning. I was running almost 30 minutes faster than my estimated running time. I pulled out my Blackberry phone and checked the time which confirmed that my watch was indeed correct. I was thrilled beyond words. I also saw that I had a voicemail from my friend Heather who I had missed at the base of the Madison Avenue Bridge. I dialed her number as I was running and in between halting gasps of breath I informed her of my exact location. She informed everyone else that I was running faster than expected and would likely finish the race sooner.  

Along the route I searched for familiar faces but saw none. Only three miles to go and I was about to turn into Central Park. It was somewhere here I was to find my friend Heidi. I searched really hard but there was no sign of her. Multitudes lined up on either side of the street and the roar of cheers greeted us everywhere. The noise was deafening. I searched for Heidi's face among those multitudes. I was desperate to see a familiar face. At this point I was running on very low fuel. A familiar face would have helped enormously. I was approaching mile 24 and my legs began to buckle. Pain ripped through my hips which felt dislocated from the rest of my body. My feet were swollen and knees and ankles were in great distress but my heart rate was just fine and breathing was normal. I was now in Central Park with slightly less than 2 miles to go and suddenly I spotted Heidi standing across the street with a banner "GO DEEPAK G GO". I lunged across with all my might in her direction and managed to yell her name. She looked at me and screamed! That scream sent a bolt of energy through my limp body and I darted ahead. It was amazing how suddenly my lifeless body was super-charged. I just allowed myself to roll with the momentum. There were more bends ahead in the last mile and the noise factor was even higher by a few decibels. My eyes searched for the Finish Line and then I saw it…….it was right there about 300 yards from me. My dream was no longer a dream. It was ready to be a reality in a few moments. A groan escaped me, my eyes were peeled at the Finish Line as it inched closer and closer with every step I took. This was the moment I had envisioned for months. It was just then I crossed over the finish line sensors and I heard the beep as my electronic chip was read and recorded. I can still hear that beep in my head. That was the sweetest sound I have heard in recent times. It was over. I checked my watch - I finished the race in 4 hours 36 minutes and 45 seconds.

I received my Finisher's medal at 72nd street but had to walk over five streets to exit the park at 77th street. That stretch was packed with runners. We were inching our way to the exit. Every part of my body ached. The pain was often unbearable. I wanted to sit but it is highly recommended that we keep walking or remain on our feet for at least 20 minutes after finishing the race. It took us almost 30 minutes to walk from 72nd street to 77th street exit. There the electronic chip was removed from my sneakers and suddenly I heard my name called out. It was Helga! Monica's mom! It was a miracle that she was able to recognize me. I was absolutely thrilled to see her. Helga was one of the race volunteers helping out the finishers. When I met her I was in great agony and my left foot was experiencing severe cramps. Walking was unspeakably laborious. My heart leapt with joy and I hugged Helga with all my might. She attended to me and helped me be comfortable. After finishing the race, I felt my body was in shock. The sun was dying away and it was cold and windy. I was freezing!! My sweat-soaked clothes made it worse. From my position in the crowds, I searched for my group of friends who were also looking for me. Just then I spotted my ex-boyfriend. His 6 feet 4 inch stature was most helpful as he towered over the rest of the crowds. Next to him was Carissa, who rose up to his hips only but held a huge banner with "Congratulations!!! Deepak Ghosh!!! Marathoner!!!". Later I learned the banner was Loretta's handiwork. All of my friends who had arrived to greet me found me and hugs, kisses, screams of joyous words spilled everywhere. My joy was boundless. Three months of hard training had culminated to this moment. My athletic goal of the year was attained. 26.2 miles covered and many more 26.2 miles await me. A milestone of my life was covered. That grossly obese asthmatic kid of yore was today a marathoner. I felt it at that moment, somewhere far, far away, I had done my dad proud.  

Deepak